What color should I paint this house,
Something simple and just plain.
The people who first lived here
Must have planted the trees, so many,
Different from one to another, many colors.

This old house has seen the aged,
Buried the memories, hidden the stories.
Maybe about a dog that sat in the shade,
Though definitely there was love here,
Carved under the sill, initialed with a heart.

Through that window the lovers stared,
Kissed more goodnight's, than hello's.
With his heart pressed up against the carving,
It would be so worth it to see,
It could be one such story here.

A stain glass ornement hangs in the window,
Which creates a beautiful ghostly tapestry.
The shutters around it weathered, shuddering,
A simple touch, a knock to vibrate, the'll fall,
But this old house feels right, strangely so.

©2007, Ron Globe